Wings of the Fairy
by Erdene
Summary: At her almost thirty years of age Sarah is rational and successful scientist. After a disturbing hallucination when she was a teenager, Sarah vowed to herself never to indulge into a fantasy of any kind and just be normal. But can you avoid your destiny, when it was decided thousands of years ago? Can you believe once again in magic... and that you belong to a different world?
1. Chapter 1 The Legend

**Chapter I. The Legend.**

The future's in the air  
I can feel it everywhere  
Blowing with the wind of change.

 **Scorpions, Wind of Change**

The sun was slowly descending into shimmering silver clouds and casting its last light on the vast plains, lush woods and ancient walls of the Underground. It was a tranquil, serene evening. The kind of evening when you feel overwhelming love for everything and everyone. The Mother Nature seemed full of hope and happiness and trying to convey that mood with the help of the fountain of colours, painting panorama in all hues imaginable of gold, red and purple. Even slums, ruins and dumps seemed less harsh and desolate.

A warm breeze was gently ruffling the dark cloak of a man standing in the balcony of the Castle. His tall tense figure was leaning against the stone ledge, his face guarded by a hood, his gaze unwavering, focused on the horizon, as if trying to discern something in the clouds. He looked decidedly not enchanted by the changing evening colours and soft songs of the birds.

"Have you ever thought of arriving through the front gate or at least announcing your impending presence in some way?" a wry voice was heard behind his back.

"I don't do pleasantries". The dark figure slightly turned his head. "You must be aware of that".

"Oh, I am. Unfortunately, too well."

The dark cloaked man returned his gaze back to the horizon without any attempt to further the conversation.

"And I see that with the old age your manners are not improving". Impatiently taping a riding crop to the top of his boot, the Goblin King emerged from the shadows of the balcony arch.

"So, to what do I owe the unexpected honour of seeing you here?" he tried once again with the slight annoyance in his voice, when the other man showed no signs of explaining himself. "The view is certainly striking from up here, but I can hardly imagine that you came all the way just to admire the scenery".

The man slowly turned and eyed the Goblin King, who was standing in front of him in all his finery and glitter.

"Cocky and impatient as ever", he snarled, his posture expressing distaste at what he saw.

"Forgive me for offending your sensibilities", the Goblin King retorted with a hint of anger. "Why are you here? I don't remember issuing an invitation".

"I don't need your invitation, Goblin King. Don't ever forget that", the man's ice cold voice seemed to make the air around him freeze and shadows darken. Jareth shrugged his shoulders and made a move to return to his room. "Well then, enjoy the view or what the hell are you doing here", he threw over the shoulder.

"She was born", were the words, which made the Goblin King to stop in his tracks. He suddenly felt a horror of unavoidable doom creeping up his spine.

"How do you know that?" he asked with forced calmness. "You cannot go to the Above."

"I don't need to", the dark man answered, once again turning to the horizon. "I felt it… I feel changes in the pattern of magic", he added lifting his hand and tracing something, some invisible lines, in the air.

Jareth slowly strode to the balcony ledge and looked intently at the cloaked man. "It's just a legend, a prophecy which is neither clear, nor credible. Nobody remembers those ancient times any more", he reasoned. "The changes you feel can be somebody else's doing".

"I remember", the man's voice was without any emotion. "Like it happened yesterday".

"But how….", Jareth exclaimed in astonishment.

"I was there". The chilling answer made the Goblin King's hands to painfully tighten around the riding crop.

"How it is even possible?" Jareth did not want to give up hope which could spring only from the denial. "Even the creatures from the Dawn of the Ages were not that powerful. Even _you_ are not that powerful!"

"But HE is", the voice of the dark man was rising. "HE has always been. By HIS sheer will HER wings were fluttering in the winds of the Above for thousands and thousands of years till they found their way to the right woman!" He was almost screaming the last words.

A heavy silence followed this uncharacteristic outburst, which once more confirmed to Jareth that there is most likely no hope of mistake left.

"HIS daughter is reborn… The first Tuatha Dé Danann born in the Above since the Dawn of the Ages", the man stated in calmer tone. "And we have to find her before HE does. _You_ have to find her", added he gravely.

"The Fairy Queen…", the voice of the Goblin King trailed of.

The last sunlight had already faded and clouds near the horizon were no longer silver; they were deep purple and resembled huge demonic fingers threatening to grip the sky into the deathly hold. A strong wind started to rattle the Castle windows. A cold gust blew off the hood of the dark man's cloak revealing his ashy, wrinkled face and long, ragged grey hair. His countenance did not betray any emotion, only his pit black eyes seemed to exude a feverish glow while his hair danced wildly.

"What are you bringing?" whispered Jareth lifting his head defiantly to the increasing onslaught of the suddenly angry Nature.

* * *

Sarah was looking intently into her bathroom mirror. Her face, barely lit by a cold glow of the night light, had an eerie appearance – pale, surrounded by dark shadows, water dripping from her forehead down her nose and chin. She looked scared, though she did not want to acknowledge it.

Sarah shook her head and bent down to splash cold water onto her face. She repeated the same action over and over again. Finally, the feeling of helplessness and dread of something inexplicable but definitely horrible started to subside. Or rather to return into some distorted realm of subconsciousness, which is responsible for nightmares and hallucinations. She shook her head again as if this action was capable of clearing the ghostly fog which was still clouding her mind and eyes.

"I really should do that MRI scan", she told to herself. At her almost thirty years of age Sarah was rational and successful scientist. She was used to solve problems and seek answers by applying rigorous logic and state of the art scientific methods. She was brave and bold and not to the slightest prone to nightmares or panic attacks. And now she was quite certain that she woke up being as close to the panic attack as she could ever be.

Sarah closed her eyes briefly and a memory of her nightmares flashed in her mind. She was falling… swirling uncontrollably downwards like a shot bird. However, it was not the falling itself that Sarah had problem with, but an accompanying feeling of inevitable end, the acute awareness of something terrible which was going to happen not only to her, but to… everybody. She was sure that she was falling to her death and each time her whole being was flooded with regret, with loss of something unidentifiable but precious, with very clear sense of defeat. Everything she was fighting for was lost, damaged beyond repair. And every time she was desperately trying to remember what it was she was fighting for, what was she losing, but could not.

In the dream she was always semi-aware that this is not real. She was able to think, to reason with herself, even to try to look around with the hope to identify where she was, where she was falling to, but to no avail. She was swirling in the dark grey space with no boundaries, no evidence of sky or earth, the only clear thing was that she was falling downwards, not floating, but going down with increasing speed. And finally when she was embracing herself for inevitable impact with a hard surface, which should be somewhere, she was wide awake.

But tonight the dream was slightly different, and that difference made her wake up with a scream and a fast beating heart. This time the grey space was filled with sounds, the distant but rather clear sounds of suffering, of cries of pain and fear, rage and death. And it was something rumbling beneath her, an invisible but unstoppable force was distorting the grey space and leaving her with the anticipation that it will tear open any moment and unveil some horrifying scene beneath her.

And now she was looking in the mirror and forcing herself to forget this nightmare, convincing herself that she is not scared, that these nightmares mean nothing – they are products of exhausted mind and body, lack of proper rest and most likely recent head trauma. "Definitely the head trauma", she told herself with self-confidence. "I have to remember to ask Dr Hartwood for more tests, and MRI". She smiled to her image with forced cheerfulness. "Either this, or I'm going slightly mad", she sang-song Queen's lyrics.

 **Hi, hope you enjoyed the first chapter! I had the idea of this story for a very long time and finally mustered the courage to start posting it :). It would be wonderful to know what you think! This is my first fan-fic, and I am not a native English speaker, so I know that my writing is far from perfect, but I aspire to improve :).**


	2. Chapter 2 Connections

**Chapter II. Connections**

 _Feels like I'm falling, into a world_  
 _Into a world I can't control_  
 _I hear it calling_  
 _Down in my soul_  
 _Gripping my bones_  
 _It won't let go_

 **Ruelle. Bad Dream**

Sarah was standing by the door and looking frantically around her apartment. She already tried to leave twice, but each time had to run back: the first time for the coffee mug, and then – for the car keys. The worst part was that she had to jog the stairs back from a garage and now was breathless and definitely late. The week which started bad was going to end even worth.

"Ah, my card!" she grabbed a white plastic card from a bowl and dashed out with a loud bang from the closing doors. "Add a few disgruntled neighbors to the equation," she thought without any humor while trying not to lose any of her stuff and jump two stairs at a time.

This week was awful. Her application for research project funding was rejected by the board of her institute on Monday, she was stood up by her date on Tuesday, and her mother suddenly decided to visit Boston on the way from New York. Sarah was stressed and angry and all she wanted to do was to crawl back to bed and sleep for 24 hours. Or even better, binge-watch Netflix. But now she was late for the appeal hearing of her project and that was obviously a poor tactic if you still want to get funding.

Actually, it seemed that everything was going not to a plan since she left a hospital. All kinds of problems, set-backs and obstacles started to appear without warning and were pushing her to the limits. To top it all off, she was sleep deprived, exhausted from now regular nightmares and only functioning because of the dangerous amounts of caffeine she was consuming every day. This was indeed an unfamiliar territory for Sarah, since normally she was not the one to lose her mind, temper or anything else for that matter. All her life Sarah was actively seeking challenges and problems, and accompanying stress and thrill. She was feeling infinitely alive and exited, when there was a problem to solve, a competition to win, or a glass ceiling to shatter. But this time the stress she was feeling was not good. She was used to winning and being in control of her life, and now she felt like losing.

The underground parking garage was pit black. Sarah tried to wave with her full hands, then jump, but lights were stubbornly not cooperating. Apparently motion sensors were down again though they were working just fine a minute ago. With a sigh, Sarah dropped her stuff on the ground and after a few attempts turned on a flashlight on her phone. It was a juggling exercise to move with full hands and not to lose the phone and that miserable light it was exuding.

Phone flashlights have this tendency to make every place look creepy, except maybe for the concert halls where people waving with their phones can create a magical view. Strange and distorted shadows formed by a flickering white light made the familiar parking garage suitable for a horror movie.

"That's stupid. What am I, five?" Sarah thought angrily when a feeling of uneasiness and mild fear started to squeeze her chest half-way to the car. She felt a sudden rush of adrenaline and turned around at the same time trying to figure out which was closer – the exit sign or her car. But unsteady flashlight revealed nothing, just ghostly shadows of parked cars and concrete columns. She cursed under her breath and put on pace.

Sarah was literally running before she scrambled up her car, dropped everything without looking somewhere on a passenger seat and pushed a lock button on the closed door.

"Fuck, fuck, FUCK IT!" the terror she felt while running to the car was overwhelming. It washed through her like an unstoppable wave, threatening to seize her and drag to the dark abys of the unlit spaces of the garage. The blackness was narrowing around her and taking hold of her throat, choking her and stifling a scream before it was able to come out of her lungs. The only thought she had was to run as fast as she could.

"Fuck…", Sarah exhaled looking at her trembling hands. "It's a panic attack all over again. I cannot be losing my shit for real", she thought trying to calm down her breath and heart rate. "Suck it up!" after a few moments Sarah mentally kicked herself and pushed start button of her car when suddenly all lamps in the garage went on.

"Oh, come on, you've got to be kidding me!" Everything looked perfectly normal under the warm lighting except for the fact that there was nobody to activate motion sensors.

Still, if by any chance there had been someone witnessing this scene, most likely they would have been frightened to death by it. They would have seen a woman chased by darkness – by fast moving, almost tangible shadows, narrowing and threatening to engulf everything in their path. They also would have been surprised by her naïve hope to find refuge in the car, which was swallowed by black shadow the moment she locked the door. And then they would have been surprised even more when barely visible silver halo appeared to emanate within the car and spread through the space chasing shadows away and activating lighting above the head.

* * *

Jareth jolted as if someone kicked him in the stomach with a full force. It was morning and sunlight was trying to squeeze through the heavy curtains inside his bedroom. Half-asleep and disoriented Goblin King rolled out of bed and decidedly non-regally flopped on the floor with his legs entangled in the sheets. It took him a few seconds to get free and prepare to fight. It took another three to realize that he was naked and there were no intruders in his room.

Then also without any reason a dull, pulling ache started to form inside his abdomen and crept up to his throat. Jareth instinctively looked in the mirror and checked his neck – there was nothing wrong with it. But the ache intensified and developed into a choking feeling, like something is lodged inside your throat and you might lose ability to breathe any time. He dashed towards the curtains, tore open the balcony door and leaned on the railings trying to fill his lungs with the fresh and cold morning air. Jareth took a few wheezing breaths before his throat was suddenly released without any effort from his side.

Jareth's mind was running as a herd of wild horses. "What for the sake of gods has just happened to me?" Slowly a word materialized inside his head.

"Sarah…", he whispered to himself still standing naked in the balcony and oblivious to gaping goblins below. Surprise, hope and terror shot through his face. For the first time in many years he felt a connection to Sarah, though fragile and unsteady, like a flickering candle light. The last time he was able to feel it was more than ten years ago, after she, still a teenager, defeated him in his own wicked game and then gradually and for the most part without realizing the real implications shut down all her links to the Underground. Sarah effectively built an impregnable wall around her own magic core, which she did not know she possessed.

Goblin King was defeated and even more, he lost his ability to enter her dreams, to know her desires and feel her presence anywhere in the Above or Underground. All his careful work, which was so successful with impressionable and easily manipulated teenager, was lost. He had to start all over again, but he did not know how. Yet.

The woman she became was strong, smart and rational. There was no place in her mind for magic - Sarah deleted her experience, and memories of the Underground became some old nightmares from the childhood she vaguely remembered. Goblin King could not find a path back to Sarah and had to resort to stalking her from a far just to know what she was up to. Her mind and her heart were _terra incognita_ for him and Goblin King had no weapons against her. Everything was going not to his plan.

But now the situation had changed - he felt Sarah. It bothered him slightly that he had no idea, why did this happen – all his previous attempts to break through her walls were unsuccessful. He wasted many hours studying ancient scripts, seeking advice of wise men and women, but to no avail. All his attempts – for the most part, dangerous, opportunistic, and foolish attempts – were embarrassing and frustrating failures to make even a small crack in her defense system. And now she started to open up, but it was not his doing. "I'll deal with it later" _,_ he thought and let his mind wander to potentially more pleasant consequences of this new development. A plan started to form in his head.

Goblin King turned around and briskly walked back to his room and strait through the door without stopping to take care of his appearance. His strained and determined face made goblins brawling in the hallways to run from his path and quell any astonishment about the naked state of their Master. But he was not inclined to try the limits of goblins' ability to keep their mouth shut – halfway to the Throne Hall with the flick of the wrist and not losing his stride he covered himself in black armor and billowing cloak. And then all hell broke loose in his castle.

"War!"

"War!"

"Master go to war!"

"Death!"

"We be dead!"

"Please, Master!"

"No war!"

"War no good!"

Screeching and commotion stopped Jareth in front of the Throne Hall.

"War! War?!" he laughed. "I am not going to a war!"

"Your king is going on a date!" A predatory smile slowly twisted his mouth.

Jareth shut the door on bewildered goblins and concentrated on a crystal which appeared in his hand. Somewhere in his head a nagging voice was trying to break through to him. _She is in danger. You know it, it was His doing. You almost choked to death, you fool!_ "Shut up," Jareth hissed. "I'll deal with it later".


	3. Chapter 3 Pain

**Chapter III. Pain**

 _It's hard letting go, I'm finally at peace, but it feels wrong,_

 _Slow I'm getting up,_

 _My hands and feet are weaker than before_.

 **Of Monsters and Men – Silhouettes**

 _Through dangers untold and hardships unnumbered, I have fought my way…_

Rows and rows of shelfs with paper towels and cleaning sprays were making Sarah dizzy. She was sauntering through a Wal-Mart with a shopping list her step-mother gave her this morning but could not find a way to the right section. The snippets from the poem she knew so well were echoing in her head and messing with her mind.

Hordes of people wandering, chatting, shouting, towing huge shopping carts overflown with goods half of which they probably do not need was a numbing sight. Sarah was looking around as if she found herself in this place by accident and had never been here before. Everything looked slightly pale under the artificial white light – pale faces, pale colors, pale air. Noise was overwhelming, a combination of voices and music which makes the outside world disappear and feel like you are in a limbo, somewhere between real life and a promise of satisfaction only a shiny, new thing can give you. But the satisfaction is never truly delivered – once you find your way out, this new, shiny thing loses its magic and leaves you with a craving for another one. Craving, which hauls you back into the limbo.

"Magic…" This word was heavy, round, she could even taste it on her tongue – sweet and sour, like the first cherries of the season. More on the sour end, but with a promise of sweetness someday in the future. Also, it was strangely familiar, homey – real, way too real.

Sarah had always loved words, she was fascinated with the language and its ability to build new worlds. Books and theater, and movies had been a way for her to experience a different life, even before her own properly began. Sarah was creating her own stories in her mind all the time. A beautiful melody, a sunset, a falling leaf could trigger her imagination and soon she would be weaving a tale of a romance or an adventure. She wanted to act – to live through her stories. And she was good at it. As her mother used to say, "had it in her blood", though the subtext usually was "she had it from me". While some unhappy teachers were regularly accusing Sarah of an overactive imagination.

Sarah caught her reflection in the mirror, perched on a shelf in a home décor section. She too looked pale, washed out – like everyone else. She could not tell what color her eyes were. Everything around her looked washed out and dull in comparison to the dream she had the other night. The dream was terrifying, but exiting at the same time. It was terrifyingly real.

Sarah closed her eyes on the pale and dull version of herself and once again could taste the sweet and sour of magic. She could hear goblins babbling, Hoggle complaining, Sir Didymus explaining something as a true knight would do. Wal-Mart's noises were dying away, and for a moment Sarah thought that she was still in the Labyrinth.

Maybe she is still there, after all! She just fell asleep and is dreaming about her former life. Any moment she will wake up and see that she is a different Sarah – beautiful, powerful, magical creature living in the Castle of the Goblin King.

 _It's only forever, not long at all…_

She heard the Goblin King's voice near her right ear, felt his breath caressing her neck. Involuntary shiver went down her spine and Sarah opened her eyes in panic. But she was alone standing in front of a mirror in the Wal-Mart, looking startled, slightly panicky, but completely alone. There was not a single person in the aisle besides her.

Disappointment shot through her body like a burning arrow and left a piercing, heartrending pain in her chest. Suddenly Sarah felt like drowning in the middle of the Wal-Mart. It was emptiness. Sarah was drowning in a big, colorless void that had opened inside of her. "It was not real. They were not real." It was hard to breathe; a hot lump was forming in her throat and tears threatening to burst out of her eyes.

"Everything was not real!" The urge to shout and cry, and hide somewhere from the all-encompassing emptiness was so intense, that Sarah left her shopping cart and ran towards the exit as fast as she could. She could barely see her way through the tears when she stumbled outside and ran along the shopping mall. The pain was ripping her chest when Sarah sank to her knees somewhere by the wall no longer able to control her sobs.

"It was not real, it was not real" Sarah's throat was sore, but she could not stop crying. Her world was imploding and leaving her with the terrible pain of unfulfilled dreams and fantasies. With the realization that the reality will never live up to her dreams. That there is no place for magic in her life. That she is just ordinary, average, like everybody else and nothing will change that.

A girl sitting on the pavement and hugging her knees outside the Wal-Mart's loading area did not attract any attention. There was nobody to hear her sobbing and ask what was wrong. She was left alone to fight her pain. Only a few pigeons hoping for some crumbs and a white owl, perched on top of a street lamp, were witnesses to her desperation. The pigeons left soon after realizing that food is not involved in this situation, but the owl did not move. It looked like a garden ornament, which a prankster put high on the lamp, – sitting so still, that not a single feather was moving, with eyes fixed on a crying girl beneath.

* * *

"I am asking, when did you become like this!" A shrill voice once again disrupted Sarah's musings.

"Look at yourself – if you were not my daughter, I would not let anyone to see myself with you in public." Her mother was getting louder. "Do you know what fashion is? Or make-up?"

Sarah was sitting with her mother and a young, athletic man in the best Boston restaurant, which was recently called a celebrity hotspot by a yellow press. The young man in question was called a toy boy by the same press, which was obsessed with fading Hollywood stars and their bikini photos and, of course, by their love life. Sex life, to be precise.

"Indeed, when did I become like this" thought Sarah to herself, sipping water and observing her mother, who was looking ridiculous in a skintight dress and a make-up more suitable to a rebellious teenager than a mature lady. A distant memory of pain and disappointment, and emptiness was lurking somewhere in Sarah's consciousness, but her rational mind was painting a picture of a sensible girl, who wanted to do something with her life and decided to be a scientist when she was still in high-school. "When I decided not to be like you" was on the tip of her tongue, but Sarah managed to swallow these words and smiled instead.

"I am wearing make-up, mother" Sarah sighed. "And my clothes are fine. I work at a lab, not a fashion magazine."

"Oh, I still can't understand, why did you throw away everything you had. You were so lucky – with the mother in the industry and your looks, you at least could have been a model." Amanda turned to the young man by her side, "Mark, you should have seen Sarah, when she was a child. She was so pretty and talented. She was acting all the time. I could have made her into a star!"

"And you would absolutely have succeeded" he lovingly stroked older woman's chin. "You are the most wonderful woman I know".

Sarah was on the verge of rolling her eyes.

"She will have an opportunity to do it with you", Sarah snapped at Mark. "I am sure, that you are also very talented."

She regretted her outburst immediately. "Crap! Control yourself, Sarah. You won't change your mother. Breathe, smile and you will survive. It's only one dinner" Sarah reminded herself looking at the show which unfolded in front of her eyes. Mark was channeling a dejected puppy and her mother was entering an undervalued parent mode.

"Why do I deserve this! You are such an ungrateful child!" Amanda was starting to make a scene. "You completely don't care about your mother! Of course, why should you? Mother is not important to you. You have no idea, what I did for you! All my sacrifices and this is, what I get!?"

Sarah's resolution to sit quietly through the dinner and not get involved in her mother's narcissistic self-pitying was quickly dissolving. Sarah's mother for several years in her young days was regarded as a relatively big Hollywood star and a sex symbol. But when the francize she stared in ended, her glorious days in Hollywood also came to an end. For the next couple decade, she was slowly sinking into obscurity and was resorting to cameos and supporting roles in TV series and questionable quality B-movies. Now she was trying to attract attention through a string of well-documented romances with the men half her age and participating in reality TV shows. There was nothing Amanda will not do in order to get a spot in celebrity news.

"A daughter who does not call her mother! Mark, can you imagine, she never calls me!" Amanda's tantrum was already attracting several spectators in the overcrowded restaurant. "She cares only about herself, exactly like her father. Only about herself! I was never valued in that family! I ruined my beauty and career raising her, but she never thanked me! Not a single thank you!"

"Mother, you left us, when I was a child" Sarah hissed at her mother. "You did not raise me, father did it".

Sarah was clenching her teeth so hard it was painful. She was using the last drops of self-control not to shout at her mother everything she had in her heart. Every injury, neglect, criticism was accumulating since her childhood and was threatening to spill out in a torrent of anger. Sarah did not like her mother, she had no reason for that. She was not proud of it, but also could not do anything about it. Sarah could not forgive her mother for leaving them, when she was just starting school and needed her the most. She could not forgive her for complaining, that having Sarah ruined her figure and her career. She could not forgive her mother for not wanting her. Sarah knew that her mother did not want a child and gave birth only because her father was begging her.

Sarah also knew that it was useless to bring anything of it to her mother. She was convinced, that Amanda was not capable of understanding, what she did to her daughter. Sarah spent a lot of time studying psychology to see at least some traits of psychological conditions in her mother's behavior. But that did not make her hurt less. It only made her to limit the contact with her mother to several phone calls during a month and occasional meetings.

"Why did you come here, mother?" Sarah used the momentarily silence to change the subject. Also, a suspicion was brewing in Sarah's mind – something was not right, her mother today was particularly determined to make a scene with a lot of witnesses.

"Well, I don't know if you deserve it after your behavior with your mother" Amanda still did not want to cease complaining. "But I made all this way to this boring city just to see you."

Sarah was not smiling; her face was stone cold. Suspicion that she was being dragged into some scheme of her mother grew stronger with every word.

"Your mother is writing a book!" Mark gleefully interjected, quite satisfied with himself and the impact his words obviously made on Sarah.

"What?" Sarah's was incredulous. "A book! About what?!"

"Why, me, of course! I have so much to give, to share!" Amanda's countenance changed dramatically from scorned to beaming. "You know, I have millions of fans, who adore me! They want to know everything about my life. I think I can give a lot of advice to others, you see. To women, yes, especially women: about career, family, motherhood". She pointedly nodded towards Sarah.

"Motherhood?" Sarah was almost chocking with suspicion that her life was going to get from bad to worse every second now.

"Yes, I can share my experience in raising a difficult child," now Amanda was barely concealing a rather vicious smile. "I think everybody wants to know how I cope, when my relationship with my only daughter is so troubled. It is immensely important to share my story, to tell others how to live when your only child neglects you."

You know the expression "the shit hit the fan"? That was exactly how Sarah felt the moment her mother started to boast about her parental experience as a basis for the book. "I might throw up" Sarah was thinking while trying to stand up on her shaking legs.

"I think I'll pass dinner this time," Sarah managed to say in a relatively calm voice and immediately headed towards the doors trying to walk straight and not to think about the stares she was getting from the other tables. "Calm down and walk. Calm down and walk". Words like a mantra were repeating themselves in Sarah's head. "Just walk."

"What the f…," Sarah muttered to herself when she was blinded by flashing lights the moment she stepped outside. Apparently, there were more shit coming her way. She instinctively covered her eyes with a hand and through her fingers she saw a group of paparazzies camped on the pavement. Her mother was trying very hard to sell a story of a difficult daughter.

Sarah was boiling with anger and disappointment. "Is this world trying to expel me!?" She was seconds away from flipping a bird to the cameras when a valet brought her car keys. That moment it dawned to Sarah that her mother was counting on her making a scene in front of the paps and then driving desperately and clumsily away. That could be a juicy material for the celebrity gossip cites: "Actress's daughter is not afraid of DUI". "Oh, no, no no, no. I'm not playing this game." Sarah straitened up, shook her head at the car keys and asked the valet to call a taxi instead.

She was standing there, smiling to the obscenities the paparazzies were shouting, when an uninvited feeling of emptiness crept upon her. Sarah's mother had always been her week spot in the otherwise strong exterior. She would never admit to anyone that she was still feeling like a hurt little girl in her mother's presence. That every time she saw her mother she was reminded about the loneliness and abandonment, and emptiness, she was running from all her life. In childhood Sarah was trying to hide from it in a world of fairytales, daydreaming and acting. As an adult, she was building a carefully maintained wall of rationality around her feelings. And only she knew that this wall had a few cracks.

Sarah caught herself staring at someone in the crowd. She tried to avert her gaze, but could not. A strong, subconscious pull was holding her eyes fixed on a man, leaning against a lamp pole. He was looking directly at her; a knowing smile was playing on his lips. An involuntary shiver went down her spine and left her skin covered with goosebumps. This feeling reminded her of something she had buried deep down in her heart years ago. A dream. A sweet and sour promise.

"Ma'am, your taxi?" Sarah registered the valet trying to guide her to a taxi waiting near the curb. She turned away only for a moment, but when she looked back, the man was gone. Sarah turned around once more, before climbing in the car, but she only saw flashing cameras. A sweet and sour taste was lingering on her tongue.

* * *

The woman dressed in black was standing straight with her head held high and an ironic smile directed towards a shouting crowd of men with cameras. She was so beautiful that Jareth lost himself for a moment and just stared at her out of darkness. He was so close to her he could see flashlights reflecting in the depth of her green eyes. He could smell her perfume. It was intoxicating. For many years he had to observe Sarah from the distance, and now he felt as anticipation and excitement, and lust was pouring through his veins.

Jareth had never denied that this game was giving him more pleasure than expected. The beginning fifteen years ago was very promising. He was a predator, he wanted his victim to run, hide, try to escape his claws, to fight him – he was ready to savor every moment of a chase. And he was ready to win. There was no other option, there were too much at stake. But he lost. The first round, at least. Now the excitement of a new round was exhilarating him, blinding him.

"Let's see, how well do you remember me, darling" the Goblin King willed Sarah to look at him. "How deep did you bury me?" She did not disappoint him. Jareth saw a hint of recognition in Sarah's eyes and felt how another thread was adding to the faint connection between them.

Jareth was standing very still, with no muscle moving, but his heart was beating like a crazy. For a moment, he thought that she was going to come to him. This thought made him shiver. Yes, he had held Sarah in his arms a month ago, but that was a different situation. Then blood was pouring over her face and he was desperately thinking of how to save her. How not to lose her.

He saw something else in Sarah's eyes just before she turned away. A wave of sadness she was quick to conceal. A pain.

Jareth was flying above the city lights later that night and rejoicing in his actions. Yes, he was petty enough to damage a few cameras that evening. A few paparazzies were going to have trouble reaching their homes as well. That was unnecessary to his plan, but he just could not help. Or maybe he did it because of the sad green eyes he was dreaming about the last fifteen years.

* * *

 **Thank you for the first reviews! To read them is the most rewarding and addictive thing!**


End file.
